


the sun has burst the sky

by haesuns



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, Not even really a fic, artist renjun, its fine whatever, medusa!donghyuck, ramblings of love, this isnt a mythology au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 15:10:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20695580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haesuns/pseuds/haesuns
Summary: Renjun has seen endlessly beautiful things throughout his lifetime, more than he could ever count on his two hands.What he is a stranger to, though, is the art of storytelling.





	the sun has burst the sky

Renjun has seen endlessly beautiful things throughout his lifetime, more than he could ever count on his two hands.

He's stood at the edge of a valley, golden rays spilling over cobalt mountains and bringing the life of dawn with the rising of the sun. A morning of peace and birdsong, of fading fogs and faraway animal calls.

He's seen the great ocean's ebb and flow, its waves licking closer to his feet and dragging the sparkling white sand along with it. The water splashes up against the rocks, a salty spray that drenches him, but he sputters and laughs nonetheless.

Now, he stares into the vast expanse of the silent woods, surrounded by muted greens and warm colored lichens creeping upon aged tree trunks. The air whispers of promises of mystery and illusion, and his feet drag him forward like a man under a spell, the sound of foliage under his feet barely reaching his own ears.

He's utterly lost, far from anyplace he knows, but he doesn't think he quite minds.

Renjun is no stranger to the art of nature; he captures it upon canvases and yellowed pages, splashes of color and daring lines captured in his heart for his hands to express. His fingers create a journey of art in the way his feet carry him throughout the lands, one place after another.

What he is a stranger to, though, is the art of storytelling.

When he stumbles across his home in the woods one day, he nearly trips and falls over a stone figure, crawling with undergrowth and hand reaching just above the ground. Its face is partially buried, and the expression in its eyes is haunting, a strangely smooth expanse of grey. Renjun only shivers and moves on through the woods.

Around him, he notices the stone figures more and more, increasing in density. Some are in pristine condition, captured in terrifyingly elegant poses, bodies warped artistically in acts of dancing or fleeing or defeat. Renjun reaches out, fingers lingering just above the face of one statue, but he withdraws his hand quickly as if it could come to life at any moment. He doesn't think much of it when he steps into the small wooden house that sits beyond the art, the air fresh but the inside dark, no hint of life whatsoever. Until he hears a scratchy voice.

"It wouldn't be wise to come into here, traveler."

The words make his spine go rigid, muscles immediately going tense and feet frozen in their place.

"When I come out of the shadows, do not look me in the eye," the voice murmurs, beautiful and dangerous, rough with disuse. "Lest you meet a fate like all the other unfortunate wanderers outside."

And suddenly, Renjun understands. The figures are not the skilled hand of a human artist, but something far worse. For a split second, he's struck with the fear that he might die here in the woods with nobody to find him, just another poor soul who would go unnoticed if he disappears now.

Yet the voice does not threaten him, and he swiftly turns away when a boy steps out of the darkness, catching only a glimpse of his appearance. Renjun hardly sees the flash of sandy golden hair, a smattering of moles across his face and eyes tired, but he does feel the warm hand that reaches out and settles on his shoulder. A shudder passes through his body, and he wills himself to not bolt out of the house or meet the boy's eyes.

"Art can be a curse, traveler. One that I have yet to break, and one that I don't want you to fall under."

These are the words that ring in Renjun's head for days when the stranger takes him in, noting his disheveled condition. He's been exiled from his home for his daring artistic depictions of life and death, beauty and destruction, all too shameful for the tame nature of a small village. Running around between towns surely isn't kind to the body, and this must be obvious in Renjun's case. The other boy must note the tiredness of his features, and although Renjun is afraid, he lets the boy take care of him, and he ends up living alongside him in the woods.

While he stays in the small house, he hears all sorts of stories. The boy starts small: he calls himself Donghyuck. He, too, was exiled for his art, and cursed by the gods for his confidence in his abilities. Then, the tales evolve. He weaves poetry as if the behavior is second nature, his melodic voice carrying the joys and sadness of a lonely life trudging onwards while everyone around withers away. Sometimes, he sings chilling songs in a ghastly soft voice. Other times, just words.

Renjun learns the stories of the people outside of the house, turned to stone. Unknown travelers, people who have tried to kill Donghyuck, a past lover who failed to heed his warning and died gazing into his eyes. He pretends he doesn't notice when Donghyuck's voice goes misty at the mention of the boy he had fallen in love with, or the crack of his voice that threatens to shatter his soul.

At the same time, though, he finds himself understanding the boy with small fragments at a time. Renjun has drawn practically every landscape known to him in his young life, all sorts of people, but Donghyuck is the only person he cannot capture. All he can do is piece together his face, soft heart-shaped lips, the moles that dot his cheek, the soft sweep of his bangs across his features that he only sees in the corner of his vision. But never his eyes.

Renjun wonders what he would see if he looked into those eyes, just for a second. Would he find beauty, a long hidden mystery finally discovered even if only to sate one boy's imprudent curiosity? Fear that another person would be so foolish as to look into those endless depths out of a burning desire? Perhaps resignation, a look that spins tales of inevitability and another person added to a list of deaths at his hands?

But Renjun will never know. Not when Donghyuck presses soft kisses to the corner of his mouth, and he doesn't dare open his eyes.Not when Renjun returns from a nearby town, fresh food in tow, and Donghyuck descends the stairs in anticipation, the smell of a warm supper filling the air. Not when they embrace each other in the morning light, Donghyuck pressing a kiss to the back of Renjun's neck, a breezy sigh threatening to escape his trembling lips.

Across his sketchbook pages, Donghyuck will always remain a figure without eyes; Renjun will never see the flutter of his lashes, the welling of tears, the crinkle of the corners of his eyes when he smiles. His lover never offers to draw his eyes for him, and Renjun never asks. A silent understanding sealed with a golden key.

When Renjun leaves another drawing of the boy without his eyes, he understands a part of his pain. The enrapturing Lee Donghyuck, doomed to forever tell stories without happy endings, chronicling tales with the worst possible closure. A happy ending, that one pair of beautiful eyes, both long-lost parts of a puzzle so dizzyingly big that Renjun can hardly envision it.

It's love, though, isn't it?

When he swipes the page with his pencil, detailing the gentle waves in Donghyuck's hair, the boy passes behind him and laughs softly. He presses a kiss to the crown of his beloved artist's head, pulls away, and continues walking, traces of his warmth lingering in the air. Maybe one day, tragedy will strike again, and the world will become dull with the death of lovers. But, Renjun prays that their story will not be one to be told decades later when their love meets its end. He won't let it be that way.

And Renjun thinks that perhaps this is indeed love. The call of his heart for Donghyuck, aching and pulling as the earth orbits the sun, will always be enough. The tragic lovers brought together, the clashing of their stories rising and falling as the millions of forgotten suns travel the sky. Their love is more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> i actually originally wrote this in 20 minutes and i kinda liked it so a few weeks later i came back to it and slapped a few hundred more words onto it and here is the result! title is from "the sun has burst the sky" by jenny joseph bc i am ripping off the title (does the splits)


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